


silver to silver, it's out of reach

by virgo (gradually)



Series: gay midwest sadness au [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Flashbacks, Gen, Gender Confusion, Jewish Character, Minor Kate Bishop/America Chavez, angst!!!! So Much Angst, au: we're all gay farmers here, chosen family, i pretend i know anything about farming, is that a tag?, kate's gay moms are named miranda and maria in case anyone cares, lapslock, the midwest, tony/bruce if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-23 05:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gradually/pseuds/virgo
Summary: AU based off of Fraction Hawkeye. Clint is just a twenty-something with trauma and a taste for midwestern longing when xie runs into Kate Bishop and her moms’ farm. The beauty of the mundane occurs.





	silver to silver, it's out of reach

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fic in a while, and let me tell you, yes it was inspired by the endgame trailer and hawkeye’s ugly-beautiful mullet-hawk (i thought it was some kind of tegan-and-sara esque cut with a side shave and my brain just went to town!) basically kate’s moms are both cool lesbians who bought a farm and clint asks to stay when xie runs away from the circus. Banner and tony are also frequent guests of the house, as they've been helping out ms. and mrs. bishop out since they first started high school and stayed in the area for college. I hope to add more to this series as time goes on ! : D 
> 
> Clint uses xie/xer/xers pronouns : D 
> 
> Thank you to my pals (you know who you are) for egging me on and reading my rambles. all grammatical errors are mine.

 

1.

It all starts tragically doesnt it? Insufferable libra sun glaring down dust covered cornstalks. Shucking the thick, sap-soaked leaves one after another, trying to wipe off whatever wouldnt come off hands onto overalls. Overalls that fit too big. They told xer that xie would grow into it. Xie grew into them all wrong: limbs stuck out at odd intervals, matching the buzzing of the cicadas a bit too closely. Xie could feel the summer heat’s thrum on skin and decided - hey, its a pretty good time to skip town.

 

2.

Its never a good time to skip town. A three hour drive up to a cooler summer lends itself to finally finding somewhere that sold the batteries no larger than pennies -- it sounds like someone dunking their head in and out of water until their parents call them out of the water, dirt tickling painted toenails and -- back on the road. Diesel fumes keep xer going. 

 

3.

Somewhere between lake michigan and lake superior xie stops for a burger. The waitress asks for xer birthday and returns with a stack of pancakes instead, taking a seat across from xer on the torn-up fake-leather booth seat. Libra moon, huh? She asks, and xie deadpans. Xie’s hands clammy on xer thighs, a mantra -- she will never get it, she will never get it, she will never get it, run. Xie leaves a $10 tip and takes the pancakes, shitty diner plate and all.

 

4.

By the time xie finds something that can be home its hit august. Xie left in may. Same pair of overalls but maybe this time -- maybe this time they fit right. Xie fits right in on the farm xie stumbled upon, wading through seas of corn, now wilting under the weight of harvest, rolling up xer overalls before biking into town twice a week. Someone asks xer if xie even graduate high school. Xie wonders what the use is if xie’s pretty good at being a fucking clown. 

 

5.

Someone is Kate Bishop. Xie doesn’t tell Kate, but they’re the same age -- Kate was born in the spring and xie was born right before summer hit bad. June. When the air is still thick with spring pollen and the sun is starting to hit just a bit harder and the dew on the grass is gone before noon. June, when xie was hiding from the sun at their decent home before deciding to skip town on a whim -- a whim of maybe things will be better if the town is bigger and the summers are warmer. The comfortable silence of a campfire compels this story out of xer mouth and Kate just sits there. The next day they practice archery at the end of the corn field. 

 

6.

Sometimes some dumbass scientist comes by, takes seed samples. Xie pretends not to care, too busy trying to replicate the comfort of worn-in shoes in a new pair that Kate bought online. How the postal service -- much less the internet -- reaches this place, xie doesn’t question. Kate just shrugs and points to the people running the place (they don’t say shit either, they just give xer a room in trade for some manual labor they’re no longer able to complete themselves). Xie asks Kate for the wifi password so xie can order those batteries that look like dimes once the shoes feel worn in enough to take into the field. Xie may be a recluse, but it’s not like they don’t have a phone and don’t know about 2-day shipping.

 

7.

Damn, brokeback mountain is a fucking sad movie. Xie watches it with the volume all the way down and the captions on the first time, once everyone is asleep. The second time, Kate and one of her friends joins in. Xie pretends not to notice the comfort they have around each other, as if their skin didn’t feel like glass and velvet at the same time. Apparently the movie is old, old, old, and Kate sits xer down with the rest of her friends and house guests and the science bitch is here too, and they all drink cider and make xer catch up on gay movies. No one bats an eye when xie comes out in some little house on the prairie ass skirt xie stole from Kate’s closet.

 

8.

Fall comes, harsh and sudden, and Kate spends most of her days catching up on all the books past due at the library. The wind is harsh and xie has to buy taller socks, can’t handle the crunch of leaves scratching at xer ankles if only for seconds at a time while xie rakes, blisters forming in the corners of hands. Every day the farm gets emptier until xie feels alone. Of course, Kate and her moms and her friend -- girlfriend -- friend are there. But xies been alone far too many times. Doesn't matter. 

 

9.

Fucking science bitch. The one fucker who still stops by, smiling and always bringing some fancy store-bought espresso as if the shit in the machine doesn’t do the same thing. Xie takes a swig straight out of the pot, glaring them down. 

 

10.

Winter fucking sucks. Xer skin prickles red with anger and disgust at xerself and xie’s tempted to just lay in the snow to try and cool down. The roof almost collapses under the weight of an uncountable amount of blizzards and xie’s run out of public access television reruns to stay complacent with the pressure. Xie steals the science bitch’s boots from right under his nose and trudges out, climbing up onto the roof with a determined precision, slipping on one shingle only to find footing in the very next one. Once on the roof xie realizes theres nowhere for the snow to go, and just fucking laughs. Laughs and laughs and cries and thinks about xer brother and the pancake girl in the diner that said xie had a libra moon, whatever the fuck meant, and wonders if kate’s friend -- girlfriend -- friend can see xer from here. Fucking pathetic. 

 

11.

Its never a good time to skip town. Xie tries to get far, if far is half a mile, before someone’s annoying ass car is pulling up to xer left and telling xer to get in, xie’s gonna get sick. Xer own name sounds foreign in the science bitch’s mouth. Xie hates it, throws a boot at the side of the door before it bounces straight back at xer. 

...

 

“Leave me to die, Banner,” Clint yells at the car’s partially rolled-up windows, left foot falling straight into a solid chunk of snow and ice. Clint can feel xer foot getting numb, can feel the tingle of frostbite up xer ankle. It’s hot and cold all at once but it's something to feel after being holed up at the farm for what feels like eternity.

 

“I can’t do that, Clint. Besides, Kate wants her shirt back,” Bruce smiles, patting the passenger seat of the ratty ass Honda Civic as if it were a fucking $5 mall massage chair. Clint gets in, but not before taking off the other boot and throwing them both in the backseat, massaging xer feet the entire way back.

 

“Ms. Bishop won’t be happy if I get frostbite, will she?” 

 

“I don’t think she’ll be mad, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s nice.”

 

“I didn’t ask that.” 

 

...

Turns out Banner has friends, and those friends fill the farm with more warmth and voices now that the cruel winter creeps upon them. Ms. Bishop forced Clint to soak in an epsom salt bath as soon as xie got back, but at least xie got to use the fancy towels afterward. Mrs. Bishop made them all - them being Kate, Banner, Clint, Kate’s moms, and whoever Banner’s dumbass friend was - wild rice soup. It was a lot better than raw corn, shucked by hands that hadn’t had the finesse of xer brother, clumsy bitten nails not being able to get all the individual hairs off before biting in and tasting nothing but green. Banner’s dumbass friend was named Tony, and they finished the good loaf of bread before Clint could, which means xie had to start making the challah early.

 

Kate joined xer once she finished the dishes, helped spread flour on the table when it got sparse. Nothing was as calming and methodical as bread-making, and as much as Clint had grown to love Kate like xer own blood, xie’d be damned before someone else took over the bread-making privileges. Something about sitting in quiet silence with Kate and her moms and whichever random people in the farm wanted to join in as the sun set and rose and set and rose and set centered Clint if only for a cycle around the sun. Clint is braiding the dough when xer mind wanders off, staring at the night time snow drift barely illuminated by the porch light and the aura of the moon enveloping the house.

 

Not pictured: Kate folding the same piece of paper over and over again until it creases and threatens to disintegrate in her hand. It’s a promise too warm and too tender to hold in her own hands without shaking from the happiness that seeps into her hands. She’s compelled to eat the paper but settles for setting it on her window sill, where it will get eaten by the frost that creeps through the double pane in the first few days of the new year. 

 

Clint makes Kate her favorite honey wheat bread with a fun little pattern in the top, and they eat it toasted with honey on the third day of being snowed in. Tony and Bruce, not used to being stuck anywhere for too long, grow as antsy as Clint and attempt to have a snowball fight before having to run inside, faces red and hands swollen from the cold. Ms. and Mrs. Bishop run out of epsom salt before Kate and Clint try and get some snow treads on the godforsaken Honda Civic.

 

The four twenty-somethings clamber into the car, Clint and xer knowledge of tractors and also stealing cars at the circus to drive in circles in the wee hours of the night proving superior. Kate then, decides the music, and Tony and Banner sulk in the back. They buy a bag of grapes for the hell of it, on top of the list that Kate’s mom’s have written out for them in a tired, practiced cursive. Tony disappears and comes back minutes later with a manic grin and no more than three frozen pizzas, the special kind that come in their own box as opposed to just shrink-wrapped. Bruce and Kate don’t bat an eye, as if this is normal Tony behavior, and Clint experiments with this shopping cart freedom by adding actual cheddar cheese instead of the artificially gooey American cheese. Sure, xer not from Wisconsin, but xer know good cheese when xer see it. Kate silently agrees with Clint’s decision and the rest of the shopping trip goes off scott-free. At one point, Tony’s hand motions become more animated -- almost deliberately -- as they try to distract Clint from the family three lanes over that’s loudly disagreeing with the group’s “lifestyle”. Clint was blissfully unaware of why at first. Sure, maybe xer hair was growing out in some kind of grunge hippie mullet, but was that such an offense? It wasn't until xie had looked down at xer own clothes until they realized why.

 

Throughout the blossoming and wilting summer and fall, Clint and Kate’s wardrobes had nearly become one and the same. When someone’s a twenty-something runaway with nothing but a pair of overalls, two flannel shirts, and some mementos, sure there’s not much to wear. But Clint was good at making clothes, and Kate was good at asking for more and more specific items -- of course, under the condition that they could share. Today Clint had one of Kate’s ratty old sweaters that had a screen printed image of Stuart Little on it, paired with one of her long prairie skirts under thermal leggings. If anyone asked, Clint dressed for function, not fashion, but it looks like the family three lanes over didn’t see it. The father’s face was reddening by the second, and Clint tried to bag up all the groceries as quickly as possible as xie felt the growing urge to run. Tony, on the other hand, must have loved the fight part of fight or flight, because he took his sweet ass time flirting with their cashier even after they had paid. 

 

The drive back had a particular weight to it as Clint took off xer hearing aids and pressed xer face to the car window, trying to feel the condensation on xer forehead. A bag of bread and eggs sat in xer lap as Bruce drove slowly behind a snow plow. Something something something something not belonging. Something something something epiphany. Something something something something social dysphoria.

 

Tony and Bruce stay for dinner and then promptly leave, citing the fact that their housemates are probably worried sick as to where they are. The streets are freshly salted on top of the snow plow they just followed and Clint just hopes the nasty salty water doesn’t hurt next year's harvest. Clint chides xerself over thinking xie will still be welcome here in a year.  _ Brave of me to think I am wanted after so long _ . 

 

That night Clint helps Ms. Bishop wash the dishes while Kate nearly runs upstairs to talk to her girlfriend. 

 

“You know,” she says, sticking her arm to the bottom of the water pitcher to scrub at the sediment left over from store-bought horchata mix, “I didn’t think you would stay.”

 

Clint nods. “I didn’t either -- but thank you for letting me.” Xie take the pitcher and rub small circles into it with the dry towel before setting it on the counter. Xie looks over to watch Ms. Bishop wash a pan with a hidden ferocity. Ms. Bishop is short, barely five feet tall, and has long black-and-grey hair she always wears in a braid that runs parallel to her spine. Her hands are soft and weathered from the seasons of labor that farmwork goes through, but she still keeps her nails filed and polished whenever possible. Her dark skin is reddish where the sun hits the bump of her nose, as if her body absorbed all the sunlight in the world from that one spot. Wordlessly, she hands Clint the now clean pan she was scrubbing the smell of eggs off of. 

 

Ms. Bishop clears her throat. “I’m glad you stayed, Clint. It’s get quiet around here…” 

 

Clint interrupts. “I understand - um - I grew up on the farm too. It can get lonely. Ran away to the circus with my brother but -- didn’t work out. Had to skip town. So now I’m here. I remember -- fuck, I remember when all those college kids were here over the summer, talking about their theses and Marx and Foucault and banality -- I barely learned how to fucking do my times table. Ha!” Clint wants to pretend it’s a joke, but it’s not. The sense of unbelonging has been clawing at xer skin for a bit too long now, now that it’s just the four of them and the snow, and Clint doesn’t know if xie will ever not be tired of being sad. Clint digs xer nails into the dish towel, wanting to grab and tear at  _ something _ , real or otherwise. Ms. Bishop just nods, and nods and nods, and Clint just keeps talking until xer throat runs dry.

 

The circus isn’t a good place for a child, regardless of if they’re watching or being watched -- and fuck, aren’t we all just watching and being watched anyway? The dark nights where Clint had to fight xer brother for a blanket and conceded, sneaking into the tent where all the trapeze artists slept and stole a long wool sweater. It was itchy and kind of ugly, but it was warm, and Clint became attached to it. Maybe the fact xie stole clothes at such a young age is what really fucked xer up -- but honestly, it was probably the hands. The hands is what drove xer out of town once the hands lied anyway, the hands were the one who set up Clint for failure, big ugly gloved hands like the ones in Smash Brothers, Tony’s favorite piece of shit game and --

 

Ms. Bishop interrupts xer train of thought. At some point, they were both back sitting at the kitchen table, and the dish towel in Clint’s hands is less more than shreds, but Clint can’t stop picking at it. 

 

“Now, Clint -- Kate and my wife always tell me this is cliche. But I want you to hear it. I came to this country to give my children everything that I couldn’t give them at home no matter how hard I tried. And now I have this farm, and a family I created, and I get to love them. Every kid who walks in those doors, and then walks out without hurting us, they become family. Just as Tony and Bruce are family, you are. I want you to know that. You don’t have to run.” 

 

Clint nods. Xie hadn’t realized xie was crying. Hastily they rub at xer face to erase any trace of tears or snot, but that just makes it get all over xer hands and what’s left of the dish towel. 

 

“Now, I’m gonna go check up on Miranda. Let me know if you wanna talk.” With that, Ms. Bishop gets up, pushing her chair in as always, and sets her hand on Clint’s shoulder momentarily, squeezes, and slowly walks away to join her wife in whatever Mrs. Bishop is trying to fix upstairs. Clint can hear Kate’s laughter reverberate through the walls as it tumbles down the stairs and into the dining room. That night, Clint finally takes everything out of xer backpack and puts the few things xie has on and in the solitary dresser of the guest room. The night air around xem is quiet, magnetic. 

 

Over the summer there was so much energy thrumming through here, neighbors, friends, stray cats, and now it’s just xer, the bed, the dresser, and the old boombox in a corner that Clint can’t get to work. Xie was used to chaos, and stability is almost twice as dangerous as the pressure of commitment settles on xer chest. Clint sets down a family photo folded three times over, sets it down, picks it up. Now the family photo is back in xer hands and xie can’t stand to even consider it real. 

...

The first sign of spring will always be planting new flowers to Clint. Xie drove Ms. Bishop to the fancy flower store, not just the racks outside the grocery store, and picked out the strongest flowers to start growing in small pots indoors. The sun is out a bit longer every day and the icicles on the gutters drain onto the backyard before turning the ground back into ice at night. It’s the open and close of the door of the world and the breathing of the seasons that makes Clint more solid in xer footing. As xie trudge outside to break up the ground to prepare for soybeans to be planted, xie catch xerself humming. The humming gets louder, into a little do-do-do tune, until Clint is singing under xer breath. The work is hard and rewarding, and Clint is just happy to feel the sun on xer skin.

 

For now, thinking can wait. It’s just Clint, the dirt, and the sun. For now, thinking about going back to school and the type of clothing they wear and the different stares xie gets and hiding from the carnies and hiding from xer feelings and thinking about what brand of coffee to try next and when to call Bruce Bruce and not just Banner can wait, now it’s just the snow being punctured to show fresh dirt, to let the earth breathe as if it were drowning and gulping down air. Clint lays in the snow after a couple of rows, simply starting at the sun as xie was instructed to never do. It’s too much and not enough all at once and when Kate calls xie in for lunch they almost run into Kate’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a more-or-less fic playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/user/galaxy__fanfan/playlist/4swYNCrBYa8lxvc17TSRKS?si=hnr0z1bGQBK9YchFIul-jg . its basically just all the music ive listened to while writing this lol. I also have a ko-fi account you can find by leaving a comment! : )


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